


Bleeding Sun

by Tavina



Series: NejiTen Fics [5]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Ip Man AU, Japanese Invasion of China, Lee is excitable and we love him, Martial Arts, Neji and Tenten are both dorks, NejiTen Month 2019, NejiTen Timline, Slightly less asshole Hiashi, WWII
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19464397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tavina/pseuds/Tavina
Summary: Hyuga Neji wished only for a quiet life with his family, practicing the Gentle Fist in the big house on the hill. But when Foshan falls to the Japanese invasion, one quiet unassuming martial artist might have to stand up and fight back.





	Bleeding Sun

“Thoughts in the Silent Night

Beside my bed, a pool of light—

Is that hoarfrost on the ground?

I lift my eyes and see the moon,

I bend my head and think of home.”

— Thoughts in the Silent Night, _ Li Bai _

* * *

_ Foshan 1926 _

“Tenten! Tenten!” The shout rings out over the main courtyard at the Ling House. “Tenten, where are you?” A young man with a bowl cut hurries down the street. His green jacket is trimmed with thick wool to keep out the biting late-spring chill. It is mid-morning, quiet and still except for the excited shouts still echoing about in the gray roof tiles. 

Lee bounds over the doorway and clatters into the courtyard-garden. “Tenten, did you not hear me?” 

There’s no Tenten in the garden. 

Oh, well that’s unfortunate. He’d thought that she was sure to be here, practicing with a long spear. She’s here most days he visits; today shouldn’t have been any different.

Belatedly, Lee considers that it might not have been a good idea to bellow so loudly that the whole street could probably hear him, but he’s just so excited. Surely, decorum can wait, right? 

Swordsmith Ling steps out of the house, a smile crinkling around his mouth and eyes. He is a tall man with graying brown hair and laughing brown eyes, dressed his habitual gray robe. “Lee, the Haruno four doors down could hear you. With how loudly you shouted, Tenten has to have heard you. Mrs. Haruno will send me a noise complaint later, I’m sure of it.” Mrs. Haruno liked order and propriety and most ardently had issues with the “martial arts rabble” in her quiet, upscale neighborhood. 

Well, there is only martial arts rabble in her quiet upscale neighborhood because Swordsmith Ling and his family moved here some twenty years previous, and that’s left the Ling Household open to criticism by their neighbors. 

Still, that bothers neither of the two men here in the courtyard at the moment, so they can lay it to rest without much trouble. 

“Ah.” Lee rubs the back of his neck with a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry about that Uncle Ling. I won’t forget to be quiet next time.” 

This quiet district in Foshan’s upper class neighborhood can’t compare to the bustle and noise of the Martial Artist’s Street where he grew up. There, everyone had to bellow to be heard. He’s gotten a little over used to it, even though he’s been here to the Ling House so many times it might as well be a second home. 

“No, no, don’t worry about such a thing. The Haruno are welcome to send me a noise complaint every time you arrive. It’s always so good to see you. Come in for tea.” Swordsmith Ling throws an arm around Lee’s shoulders, and the two of them walk leisurely toward the house. “How’s your father? Has Master Gai gathered any more students for his school?” 

“No.” Lee perks up again a moment later. “But we are still doing quite well. Thank you for asking, Uncle Ling.” A smile on his face and a spark of determination in his eye — Maito Lee was never known for giving up or giving in. “One day, I will make my father’s style of Martial Arts famous! Just you wait, Uncle Ling! I’ll be the Master of a large martial arts school one day!” 

They are currently a school of two, he and his father, but one day, one day, he will make it known that everyone can become a good martial artist through hard work. He hadn’t been born with much natural talent, but his father had never looked down on that. 

Maito Gai had always said that his skills and achievements now are so much sweeter because he had to work for them. So he’ll do his best to guide his future students the same way.

“So what brings you to the Ling House?” Swordsmith Ling had moved to Foshan some twenty years ago from Sichuan because there were fewer and fewer martial artists there. Business dwindled and as a consequence, the Ling Family had moved to Foshan where martial arts still prospered, and the Ling Family Weapon Business had chance to prosper as well. 

Twenty years on, Ling Liushan has grown wealthy and famous in the city of his choice though the burrs of his accent still lingered a little bit whenever he spoke. At this point though, no one really noticed. He’s a welcome guest whenever he chooses to visit, and where he had come from, well, that had mostly been lost to the sands of time. 

He was as much a native to Foshan as those who had lived there all their lives. 

“Oh, I have great news!” Lee bounces on the balls of his feet, barely capable of containing his happy energy while Swordsmith Ling looked on with quiet fondness. “The best news of the year!” 

“What news, Lee?” Ling Tenten steps out of a doorway, closing it behind her with a casual hand. She holds a spear slung across her shoulders. 

Ah, so that’s what it was. She’d just been a little late to come out and practice then. Maybe Lee had just been a little too excited and ran too fast? 

That would explain everything. 

Ling Tenten is a young woman of about nineteen, tall for her age, with serious gray eyes that often laughed like her father’s. Today she’s wearing a pink shirt and a pair of dark woolen pants. 

Lee pauses for a moment to catch his breath so he can blurt out the news in its entirety all at once. “Neji’s coming home from Guangzhou in less than two weeks. I heard it from the servants at the Hyuga Manor, so I know it’s absolutely true. Master Hiashi even opened a bottle of wine to celebrate the occasion.” 

Tenten’s long spear clatters to the ground. “Neji’s coming home?” 

Three years ago, Master Hiashi, his uncle, had sent Neji off to finish school in a bigger city than Foshan, and the closest provincial capital had been Guangzhou. Master Hiashi had said it was because he wanted Neji to see more of the world that just Foshan, and their family had the money to send him so far, so he had gone. 

Since then, he has not been back to Foshan. All his New Years, all his Mid-Autumn Festivals, every Duanwu and Lantern Festival for the past three years had been spent studying very very hard. 

In the first year, he wrote letters frequently home to Lee or Tenten, but by the second, his studies got harder, and they learned what they could of him from letters he sent home to his cousins, Hinata and Hanabi. 

By this year, his third year away, even those letters had slowed to a gentle stop. 

She knew it was because he couldn’t afford to lose moments when every little bit of time would help him pass the examinations and make his uncle happy. Neji tries very hard to make his uncle happy. 

It is only an unfortunate faultline in both of their personalities that they never show each other that they are happy. Tenten hopes to heaven that they know though. It would truly be horrible if they didn’t. She can’t imagine living that way, and so hopes that Neji doesn’t have to. 

Master Hiashi would have tea with her father perhaps once or twice a month. As martial artists, pillars of the community, and good friends, they would always find some excuse to meet relatively frequently despite their busy schedules. 

And always, always, in the past three years, not a visit would pass without some talk of Neji, some proud mention of how well his nephew was doing, but Neji himself never knew. He and his uncle are both taciturn with each other, never truly honest.

She’d never really understood how they could bear to live like that.

Neji always thought he had to do better, push himself further, and now, now he is coming home. 

Tenten grabs Lee by the shoulders. “Did you hear if he passed the examinations?” 

Lee shakes his head, and for a moment, her heart leaps to her throat.  _ No? No, he has to have passed… _ In her heart at least, Neji is a hero and a scholar, and there’s way he wouldn’t pass the government exams.

“I don’t know. I didn’t wait around to hear much more than the news that he’s coming home soon.” 

Tenten slumps against a wall, her spear practice completely forgotten. Three years have passed. 

How has her friend changed? 

“Well, it’s always good to hear of Neji, and this news is excellent.” Swordsmith Ling claps Lee’s shoulder. “Come, I invited Lee for tea. We can discuss this more slowly over a drink and a few desserts.” 

Tenten remembers herself abruptly and with disguised nonchalance, picks up her spear, slinging it over her shoulders once more. “Of course,” she says, trying somehow to find her balance once more. “Baba, can Lee stay for lunch as well? I’d love to practice with him in the garden.” 

“Of course, of course.” The three of them make their way toward the dining room. “We always have another plate for Lee should he want one.” 

Lee beams. “If it won’t be too much trouble, I’d love to stay!” There’s not much for him to do at home, and practicing forms with Tenten is always a worthwhile endeavor. He knows his father doesn’t expect him back soon, since he has gone to visit the Ling House.

There’s no harm in staying. 

* * *

After lunch, Lee and Tenten retreat to the back garden, she with her long spear, and he with his bare fists. Together, they while away the afternoon, trading blows back and forth. 

“You’ve improved.” She means this in the best possible way. Lee  _ has  _ improved. He’s noticeably faster and more accurate with his punches now. 

“And so have you, my friend!” Lee dodges another stab of her long spear, rolling with the sweep of her weapon and leaping to his feet not even winded in the end. “Your youth is blossoming nicely!” 

He darts forward with another quick pair of punches, which she counters with the heft and heavy weight of her spear handle, careful not to jab the metal sheathed end into his stomach and leave him with heavy bruises and the wind knocked out of him. 

He flashes her a brilliant grin when the longer reach of her spear finally gets the best of him. With a spear in hand, she’s better than him, capable of using the shaft as leverage against his strikes both attacking and defending. 

She presses the blade a little closer, and with a playful laugh asks him a question. “Lee, do you yield?” 

He seems to consider it. “Never!” 

She teases the spear closer. “Never?” 

He throws up his hands in good natured jest. “Alright, alright! I yield to you my most youthful of friends.” 

“As well you should.” She savors the sweet taste of victory for a moment before letting Lee catch his breath.

A bead of sweat slides down her brow and gets caught in her eyebrow before she wipes it away with the back of her hand. She answers his grin with a challenging one of her own. “Do you dare to go another round, Lee?” 

He doesn’t say a word, just makes a beckoning gesture with one of his hands. 

She casts her long spear aside — it clatters to the dirt of the courtyard and rolls away into a bush. 

Another flurry of punches and kicks and they start the next round. 

When the sun slides down and covers the courtyard in deep shadows, Lee notices the time and bids her farewell with a bright grin and a salute. “I’m going to head back and see if my father wants me to pick up anything from the market!” 

“I won’t keep you longer then.” She waves him off before going to retrieve her spear which had rolled off underneath the spreading peonies. 

“Tenten, can I have a moment?” Her father’s watching her from the walkway next to the front door, his face cast in shadow by the way the slate shingles block the light. 

“Of course, Baba.” She slings her spear over her shoulders and walks back into the house with him. “What’s on your mind?” 

“How do you feel about Neji?” 

The question blindsides her. “How do I feel about Neji?” She considers it. “I’ve missed him. He is a dear friend.” 

“Just a friend?” When she looks up, her father has an unreadable face. 

“Well, what else…” She trails off out of shock. “Baba, you don’t mean to ask me if I like him?” 

“Is the thought of that so strange?” He pours her a cup of tea and gestures for her to come sit by his side and watch the sunlight fade from the flowers. “You two have been friends for many years now, and he is a good young man. It would not be a bad thing if you did like him.”

She swirls her tea around in the blue and white porcelain cup and thinks about her feelings some more. On all matters of the heart, it’s best to let the heart decide. 

What does her heart say? And more importantly, what does she want her heart to say? 

“I haven’t seen him in three years.” She says, slowly parsing out the layers of feeling. “And now I am uncertain.” She is uncertain, uncertain of his heart, and uncertain of hers. 

Maybe if they’d spent the last three years together she would know for certain which way the needle points, but time changes people. 

She’s changed. 

How has Neji changed?

How can she really say? She would have to talk to Neji. 

“Well,” her father pours himself another cup of tea. “There is no fault with that. It was just a thought.” 

And she knows, she knows it very well. 

Her father would never agree to any marriage where she wasn’t sure of herself and her decisions. 

* * *

Three days pass with no word of Neji’s return, but on the morning of the fourth day, the entirety of Foshan has heard the news. 

Late last night, the long absent prodigy of the Gentle Fist technique returned home to his uncle’s manor on the hill. 

Hyuga Neji’s returned to Foshan. In his hand, he holds the highest examination scores to come out of Guangzhou that year. 

His uncle doesn’t expect more of him, he’s sure. His uncle had never expected him to become a government official in the corrupt political scheme of Beijing. It was all about prestige. It was always about proving that he could, that the Hyuga name could still be associated with great achievements. Like his father before him, he could take a government position if he so chose, but also like his father before him, he’s turned his back on that life.

He doesn’t want to spend more time in Guangzhou, or further afield in Nanjing, or if he had greater ambition, Beijing.

For three years, he had dreamed of returning home triumphantly to Foshan, to a quiet life in a quiet country house on the big hill, to a young woman with grey eyes, to his two younger cousins, and to his best friend who he is sure still dresses in hideous green. 

With this score in hand, he can finally broach the topic. 

Three years away, he had turned this thought over and over in his mind by lamplight before he prepared for bed at least one night a week if not more.  _ Tenten, how are you?  _ Three years away, maybe she’s fallen in love with someone else in the meantime. 

He’d thought maybe they were in love before he left, but at seventeen he was hardly sure of his own feelings, much less her own. Now at twenty he is assured of his own, but not of hers. It has been long since they spoke. 

And yes, that was his fault in part, he had worried too long about sending a letter filled with sentimental value when Tenten had never cared for sentimental words. 

So he’d written the letter many times, filled with many different words, but the same underlying feeling every time.  _ Tenten, how are you?  _ But he had never sent it. 

The value of a love is not determined by empty breath after all, and words are always empty after a time. No, best to stand face to face and speak with fists. 

He raps on his uncle’s door, once sharply, because it is not polite to pound. 

Impatience is not polite. 

He will test the waters by asking his uncle. Uncle Hiashi is good friends with Swordsmith Ling, so perhaps he would have taken note of Tenten’s thoughts and feelings. 

“Come in, Neji.” Uncle Hiashi, at least, has not changed. He sounds just as disgruntled to be awake at an early hour as usual, but his pride refuses to allow him to sleep in. 

“Good morning, Uncle.” He pushes open the door and steps into the study. 

It’s one of the most beautiful rooms in the house — a Ming Dynasty vase holds a single branch of sweet cherry blossoms, several cherry wood chairs, a couch made of green bamboo, and the centerpiece of this room, the famous black table that’s been passed down in their family for generations. 

“I had something I wanted to ask you about.” They’d met last night for dinner and talked over what his last three years in Guangzhou had been like, but he had not broached the topic then. No, this is a conversation for daylight and the bright world of morning and new beginnings. 

Uncle Hiashi raises an eyebrow at him. “Well?” 

Now that he’s here, it’s harder to ask. “Do you still visit Swordsmith Ling often?” Best begin with this then. If his uncle and Swordsmith Ling had an unfortunate falling out, then he’d have to elope.

“He is a busy man.” Uncle Hiashi rises. “Did you want to visit Ling Manor? That can always be arranged.” Ah, so there has been no falling out. What a marvelous thing to know. 

“I turned twenty this year.” His thoughts are unruly, running over themselves like badly written calligraphy. 

“You want me to go speak with Swordsmith Ling about his only child.” 

Oh no. Was it that obvious? He didn’t even get to the line ‘and twenty is old enough to think of marriage.’ 

Well, since his uncle knows what he means, it makes things simpler. “Yes.” He continues forward, more assured of himself now. “I would like to marry Ling Tenten.” 

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first chapter of one of the many things I'm working on for NejiTen Month 2019. It's the most wonderful time of the year!!!
> 
> That and NejiTen has a discord and we welcome all people who want to join! Check out NTMonth blog for the link!
> 
> ~Tavina


End file.
